Page 80 of Home in Nevada

Lucy seriously messes with my head. The whole time we’re sitting on the sand, I can’t stop thinking about Jamie.

The waves are like a soundtrack I can’t ignore—slow, steady, and unrelenting. They remind me of him. Not just his laugh, though that’s part of it. But the way Jamie’s always felt... dependable. Like the tides. Always coming back, no matter what. He’s always been my constant, even when I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I’ve never been to the beach with him. Never surfed with him, never watched the sunset paint the sky with colors you only see at the ocean. Never wandered the pier with him, teasing him until we split a funnel cake, powdered sugar sticking to his fingers, to his lips. I imagine the way he’d laugh, the way he’d crinkle his nose when I stole a piece.

And suddenly, it’s not just that I’m thinking about him. It’s that I miss him.

Lucy’s voice yanks me out of the thought.

"I’ve got this weird hair growing out of the side of my ass," she announces out of nowhere, breaking into my imaginary moment like a wrecking ball.

My brain screeches to a halt.

"What the hell are you talking about? Why are you so gross?" I ask, staring at her like she’s sprouted two heads.

She shrugs, unfazed. "I’ve got this long, thin hair on my hip that just keeps growing back. I keep pulling it out, and it just comes back. What the hell is that?!" She leans to the side, pulling her shorts down just enough to point at the spot.

"Lucy..." I hold up a hand, already regretting looking. She’s grinning at me, her tongue sticking out like some kind of devilish toddler. "That’s disgusting. Seriously, why are you like this?"

"You don’t get those?!"

"No, dude."

"What’s up with you today?" she asks, sitting up and brushing sand off her arm.

I hesitate, my tongue fumbling for a response. Her question feels more loaded than it probably is, and the weight of Jamie is still sitting on my chest like a boulder.

"I miss Jamie now," I admit, quieter than I meant to. "It’s your fault."

She laughs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and flops onto her back, shielding her face from the sun with her arm. "What would you do with Jamie if he were here right now?"

It feels like an innocent question, but it punches me in the gut. I want to laugh it off, toss out something stupid like "hit him with a volleyball" or "make him eat an olive sandwich." But my brain doesn’t cooperate, and Lucy’s still watching me like she expects a real answer.

"Go surfing," I say finally, and the second the words leave my mouth, I feel stupid.

Lucy barks out a laugh, turning her head toward me. "Surfing? Dude, you don’t surf, and neither does Jamie. I mean, I’d pay to see that, but come on."

"I used to surf," I say, shrugging.

Her eyes widen. "No way. When?"

"When I first moved here. Before Tiffany."

She tilts her head, squinting at me like she’s trying to picture me doing something physical. "I’ve only ever seen you play video games. Why’d you stop?"

"Tiffany didn’t like it."

Lucy smirks knowingly. "Oh yeah? Why not?"

"She thought I was cheating on her," I mutter, cringing even as I say it.

Lucy explodes into laughter. "Wait, what? Why?"

"People hit on me sometimes when I was out there," I say reluctantly, staring at the waves like they might swallow me whole.

"Well? Were you cheating?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No! What the hell kind of question is that, Lucy?!"

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